


explaining is an admission of failure

by procrastinatingbookworm



Series: Little Beast (Jonah Week 2020) [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (because this is jonah), (because this is me), Dubious Morality, Epistolary, Intersex Albrecht von Closen, Intersex Character, M/M, Mind Games, Praise Kink, Queer Themes, Trans Jonah Magnus, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24748657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: Jonah backs Albrecht toward the bed and sits him down, settling down beside him without ever letting go.“Dear one,” he murmurs, one hand on either side of Albrecht’s face. “My beautiful Archive. Will you extend to me your forgiveness?”“I don’t know what I would need to forgive you for, but—so long as you say such sweet things to me I will forgive you any slight.”Jonah turns, shifting their positions increment by increment until Albrecht lies on his back, Jonah kneeling over him.“You’ll understand eventually, my sweet Archive,” Jonah whispers, his mouth pressed to Albrecht’s throat. “Until then, indulge me?”It takes Albrecht a long, slack-jawed moment to realize it’s a question. “Yes,” he eventually manages. “Anything.”
Relationships: Jonah Magnus/Albrecht von Closen
Series: Little Beast (Jonah Week 2020) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788130
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26
Collections: Jonah Magnus Week 2020





	explaining is an admission of failure

Statement of Jonah Magnus, given as part of a letter to Albrecht Von Closen, November 18th, 1829.

_My dear Albrecht,_

_I am quite sorry to hear of your poor health, though in answer to your question I myself am well, despite the chill here. It has been raining quite miserably for some time, without a flake of snow, and is indeed raining as I write this now. I hope you stay dry, Albrecht. Tell me when you will next come to Edinburgh, and I will have a new coat made for you by the time you step off the train._

_Perhaps I should not make such promises lightly. Such flippantly offered debts to friends are how my dear friend Barnabas Bennett was so entangled in financial misconduct by the end of his life. However, I have recently come into a large sum of money, and a method by which to continue earning it, and I am rather giddy with the freedom._

_I do have a favor to offer you, more serious than the proposition of a new coat: allow me to have the books rebound. I shudder to think what so long in a tomb has done to them—with time, if not with damp. I have found a reliable book-binding company, and while I hold no distrust toward German bookbinders, I scarcely think there is one in the forest in which you have taken up residence. You will have to send them away somewhere to be rebound, and I can swear to you that they will be safe with me._

_It has been an eventful few years, has it not? More than a decade since my Institute was founded, and only recently have I managed to make more of it than a library for a particular kind of book, mostly thanks to the dear Dr. Fanshawe._

_He’s been collecting stories for me, my Jonathan. I’ll have to send him your way sometime._

_As always, your obedient servant,_

_Jonah Magnus_

* * *

**January 27th, 1830**

Albrecht has been pacing back and forth, feverish and sleepless, for nearly half the night, before a knock on the door disrupts his frantic back-and-forth.

Jonah opens the door without fanfare, stepping into Albrecht’s bedroom. He sets a book down on the writing desk, and all the air goes out of Albrecht’s lungs in a rush.

“Look at you,” Jonah murmurs, audibly impressed. It’s not the first time Albrecht’s heard that tone, but it’s the first time it’s been directed at Albrecht himself. “Oh, you’re lovely.”

Albrecht can only blink at him, a sensation that feels uncomfortably like it’s happening across his entire body. He’s certain he doesn’t look particularly fetching—he hasn’t slept soundly in a long time.

Jonah, though, looks on him as though he’s seen an angel. He crosses the room, grasping Albrecht by the hands and dancing in a delighted circle. “My Archive, my lovely Archive. I wish you could see what I See.”

There’s something about the way he says it that sets Albrecht’s nerves on edge—something to the intonation that makes it less like a compliment and more like a threat.

But Jonah is soft and warm and gentle, and he makes the noise in Albrecht’s head not quite so loud and overwhelming. His eyes are piercing in their kindness, violent in their attentiveness.

Jonah backs Albrecht toward the bed and sits him down, settling down beside him without ever letting go.

“Dear one,” he murmurs, one hand on either side of Albrecht’s face. “My beautiful Archive. Will you extend to me your forgiveness.”

“I don’t know what I would need to forgive you for, but—so long as you say such sweet things to me I will forgive you any slight.”

Jonah turns, shifting their positions increment by increment until Albrecht lies on his back, Jonah kneeling over him. 

“You’ll understand eventually, my sweet Archive,” Jonah whispers, his mouth pressed to Albrecht’s throat. “Until then, indulge me?”

It takes Albrecht a long, slack-jawed moment to realize it’s a question. “Yes,” he eventually manages. “Anything.”

Jonah crawls down Albrecht’s body, then looks up from between his legs. “Trousers off, if you please.”

It occurs to Albrecht to be self-conscious only after his underwear is halfway down his hips. “I, ah,” he starts, as if to explain himself.

“Remember to whom you’re speaking, my dear,” Jonah says, gesturing to his own body before reaching up to pull Albrecht’s underwear aside.

Albrecht tucks his arms behind the pillow to prop his head up, awaiting Jonah’s verdict.

(Albrecht’s body, unlike Jonah’s, had never caused any confusion as to his nature. He was raised a boy, with no thought given that he might be otherwise.

It was only later in his life, when he was fully grown and had failed to conceive a child with his wife, that he began to wonder if he was abnormal.)

“Small, I suppose you could say,” Jonah murmurs, a smile curling across his lips. “I wouldn’t say abnormal.”

Albrecht startles. Has he been speaking aloud? He can’t be certain, because Jonah only smiles at him, sweetly.

“You’re lovely, Albrecht,” Jonah says, his voice scraping over the consonants. “Just lovely.”

Albrecht can only watch and hold his breath as Jonah cradles his cock in his palm, as though weighing it, then slowly sinks down and takes it into his mouth.

 _Beautiful_ , Albrecht thinks he can hear, even though Jonah’s mouth is full. _Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful._

Jonah’s tongue traces over Albrecht’s cock, up and down the length of it. Examining, perhaps—or worshipping. Albrecht feels unmoored, _undone_ , shaking under Jonah's attention. For any... shortcomings... he may have, he's never lacked sensation.

By the time he comes, Albrecht can barely think; can only feel the soft, wet heat of Jonah’s mouth around his cock.

When Jonah swallows around him, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever breathe again.

 _Forgive me,_ Albrecht thinks he hears, but there’s no apology in the tone.

Albrecht blinks through a dizzy haze of pleasure.

Jonah is gone. 


End file.
